MamaSpeak: When a No-Parent Co-Parent Finally Makes Contact–Part 1

This is the first in a 2-part series.  Enjoy Part 1 and then check out Part 2 here.

2008 was a great year for me. My son and I were celebrating exciting milestones: his 18^th birthday, high school graduation and entrance into college. By early August we’d already celebrated the birthday and graduation and were preparing for his move into his college dorm when I got the call. His father – who had been absent from his life entirely since the age of 5, who had never, EVER paid a single dime in child support, sent a birthday card, or even picked up the phone to call to say “hello” –  contacted my cousin requesting my telephone number.  Now understand that this is the same man who refused to help me when our 6-year-old son was sick and in need of financial support to pay for prescriptions. The same man who for the first 4 years of his son’s life lived less than 5 minutes away from him, and it would not take both hands to count the number of times he bothered to see him. The same man who, because I decided to end the relationship with him and not tolerate his constant cheating, decided to end the relationship with his son and not look back.

My cousin could tell I was shocked. It must have been the constant bumbling over phrases like “I can’t believe this,” “you have got to be kidding me,” and “are you serious?” that gave me away.  He tried to preempt my launch into anger: “Well, you have to forgive,” “Just hear him out,” “Think about Toris…” I accepted the number and ended the call still in total shock. Nonetheless, I’d made the commitment to consider making the call. That was Sunday afternoon.

By Tuesday night I was seething. I’d spent the last several days reliving the last 18 years in my mind. I’d recalled every painful discussion I’d had to have with my little boy about his father’s absence. I remembered all of the confusion his and his family’s absence created for my son and how I struggled to explain inexplicable.  So, yes, by Tuesday I was downright mad!

During my 48-hour trip down memory lane three incidents in particular stood out for me:

The first was when my son was in 4^th grade. I’d bonded with several of the parents through school-related activities, events, and our attempts to nurture our children’s friendships outside of the classroom. During one school event I was chatting with a parent who shared with me that my son had told classmates that his father was dead, and proceeded to give her condolences. I was extremely alarmed that my son had decided to deal with his father’s absence by declaring he was dead. Up until that point, I had not discussed his father’s absence with him, nor had I encouraged him to talk to me about it. That would eventually change.

The second was when my son was in 6^th grade. He was spending the night with a classmate whose parents had taken them all to a relative’s home for a gathering. The relative, who had met me before, for some odd reason, proceeded to ask my son who he looked like, insisting that he did not look like me. My son fell silent, somewhat confused by her question. She then asked him whether or not he looked like his father. My son, in his innocence, replied: “I don’t know.” After all, he had not seen him since he was 5 years old, and his memory of how he looked had faded. When Toris shared this experience with me, I was not only devastated, I felt ashamed. I was the mother of a child who didn’t even know what his father looked like. What type of woman was I?

The last incident was on Father’s Day following his 6^th grade year. With the previously described incident in mind, I asked my son if he felt he was missing out on anything by his father not being around. He said yes and that he really wanted someone to help him get better at basketball and that he didn’t like practicing in the driveway alone. I experienced an instant shift. I realized my son needed a space where he could safely express himself around this issue. I felt enlightened.

As I thought through these incidents and how I eventually decided to handle them, I realized that a beautiful tradition was born out of them. I began to use some of our “dinner dates” as an opportunity to create the space for my son to talk about his father and his absence if he wanted to.  He owned this space and began to bring his father to life, into his life, through our regular sharing.

Recalling the tradition, I realized that I’d intentionally put forth the effort to help my son create and hold a space in his life for his absent father. It was now time for me to give him the option of deciding whether or not he would allow his father to step into it. My heart still ached for the 11-year-old who deserved to know if he looked like his father.

I decided to make the call…

The story’s not over! Read Part 2…

In the meantime…
What would you do or have you done in this situation?

Leida Speller is Founder and CEO of Single Mothers for Success, Inc., a non-profit organization determined to help improve the lives of single African-American mothers struggling to care for their families. Her passion is to encourage them, despite their many challenges, to dream big dreams for themselves and their children; and to not allow their lives to get buried under the debris of struggle, self-doubt, and the seemingly impossible. Her organization’s flagship program, DumaVillage, equips its participants with the tools, information and support they need to begin to take their lives to a new level and consistently provide their children with the love, safety, stability and healthy-parenting all children deserve.

Read more articles by Leida Speller